The Search for Freedom

In my brain I screamed, "Yohoo-I can live forever!"

I slightly shifted my hands on my chest back and forth several times. It was incredible! I could not believe that I had that kind of power. I didn't need to be afraid anymore. Even if someone tried to cut me into pieces, I would only laugh at them. Many impossible things have happened to me since I met that old, weird man. He was undoubtedly powerful, for he made my dream come true. I became a superhuman! But something crossed my mind: about the condition he wanted to tell

me.

I didn't know if I had that condition in order to become a superhero. I admitted it was my mistake. I didn't listen to what he wanted to say. However, I didn't worry too much, because there was nothing that could be hidden forever. I was pretty sure I would discover that thing soon.

Though I already had the power, it never entered my mind to stop schooling. I wanted to see my classmates who were studying their notes, writing something on their papers, answering tests, reading books, and listening to our teachers' discussion.

Nothing could stop me from going to school and doing everything I could to achieve my dreams. I understood that the power I had would not help me achieve my goals and might even endanger me.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

My beautiful teacher, Jayne Salvador, fixed her things on the desk. She carried them with both hands and walked towards the door. She opened it and got out of our classroom.

My classmates hurriedly followed her outside. They were crowded at the door. I didn't know what they were thinking. What I only knew was that they seemed to be in an elementary class and not in a high school. Those children were even more obedient than they were.

Unlike those children, my classmates couldn't even follow the smallest instructions from our teacher. But I knew I could not blame them, because sometimes stupidity was cleverness. Being disobedient sometimes helps someone avoid danger. Looking out the window made of glass, I could see the students were going outside their classrooms too, so I fixed my belongings, put them inside my blue backpack, zipped and slung it across my back.

"Hey!" France exclaimed. "Where are you going?"

France was my classmate. He had been my classmate since my elementary days. Until high school, he was still my classmate and also a seatmate. France was a kind boy. He sometimes defended me from those bad students. He had a high nose, round, brown eyes, short, curly hair, thick, black eyebrows, brown skin, etcetera.

I replied, "I'm going home, you know, it's already midday."

"Wait for me, I will join with you," France said while fixing his notebooks. He unzipped his black backpack and put his things inside. He carried it on his shoulders and attempted to go. "Wait! You have forgotten to zip your backpack." I told him, took some steps, and zipped up his backpack.

He said, "Thank you," and then we went outside the classroom.

We sat down on the bench first, waiting for the throng of students to disappear. Then we got out of the gate and took the street. The structures never felt tired of standing on both sides.

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I was impressed by the way they stood on whatever hurricane passed by. The structure is better than any other, quiet and lazy for any trouble. Nobody could criticize or judge them because they were not committing any crimes against humanity.

"It's nice to know that there's no bully anymore," France said.

I bragged, then chuckled. "They are lucky because they didn't show their faces to me, or else I would have kicked them out of this world."

"Whoa, are you really mad at them?" He queried. "I heard the news that those boys were missing many days ago, and their parents were still searching for them until now."

"Yeah, I also heard that news," I told him.

Though I knew, I didn't tell anyone about that thing. Nobody would believe me either, because I was the only one who could see the old man. Other people would only make fun of me, for they would think I was a crazy boy who talked

nonsense.

"Where do you think they are now?" France asked.

"I don't know and I don't care wherever they are. They might be happy there. We should not care about them, for they have themselves every time and we also have ours," I replied.

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"You have a point," he agreed. "We should not think about those inconsiderate people who don't care about us either."

"Oh yeah, we should walk fast so that we can get home early." I suggested while looking at my shoes and minding my own steps.

We walked fast on the concrete road. Sometimes I looked at what was ahead and also looked back to see how long we had already traveled. After a few moments, my friend stopped walking.

"Lil, I will be here," France informed me. "That's our house." He pointed his index finger at the huge, white-painted house by the street.

I knew, unlike me, France came from a wealthy family. So I nodded. He tapped me on the back portion of my shoulder as a sign of goodbye, then he walked towards their house. He got inside the door and shut it, so I continued walking down the quiet street.

After a few moments, I reached home. I got inside and searched for my parents, but as usual, they were not home yet, because it was midday and they were busy working. My father was probably on the farm, while my mother was on the market.

I would do these things alone. I was quite capable of taking care of myself, feeding myself, feeding the animals, and feeding my dog, Cyril. A dog I saw on the street a month ago. She was looking weak and pitiable at that time, so I decided to take her home.

Every time I was going towards our house, Cyril would also run towards me. She would jump and lick me anywhere, even my face. She always wanted to play with me, and sometimes slept beside me. The only problem with her was that she was sometimes dirty and made my school uniforms and clean clothes dirty. I even admired my dog. Perhaps it's because I didn't have any sisters or brothers, the reason why I always treated her as my younger sister.